


Silver and Onyx

by SheegothBait



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, POV Female Character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-02
Updated: 2019-07-08
Packaged: 2020-02-16 05:49:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18685381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SheegothBait/pseuds/SheegothBait
Summary: An injured young woman travels to Oasis and finds herself quickly swept up in something much larger than herself.Exploring the making of a Talon soldier and all that befalls her.(It's M just to be safe. There are blatant descriptions of dehumanization, as well as the expected violence and death)





	1. Sandstone

            The artificial glow of the screen throws harsh shadows across your darkened room, and you check the clock on your computer as you take another pull at your coffee. It reads 3:27. You’re not really used to staying up this late, but you’ve been waiting and hoping for a response to your application, which was supposed to be sent by today. The only reason you’ve stayed up, checking and rechecking your email, is because of the enormous time zone difference. If you’re to go to where this trial is taking place, your circadian rhythm will need adjusting anyway.

            You hit the little circular arrow in your browser bar, refreshing the page, and wait the agonizing four seconds while it reloads. A moment of disappointment is replaced by excitement when an new message pops up. You open it with one click, your hands slightly trembling.

            _To whom it may concern:_

            _You have been selected to participate in the trial as detailed in our flyer. Please follow all further instruction pertaining to pre-test requirements. This trial is expected to last a month; please pack accordingly should the trial require you to travel. Medical expenses will be paid for, and participants will also receive monetary bonuses for each day they choose to participate, to be given upon completion of the trial._

_The following is a list of documentation required to enter._

  1. _Physical exam dated within the last two months_
  2. _Complete vaccination record updated within the last six months_
  3. _History of injury, illness, or condition prompting entry into the trial, dated within the last three moths_
  4. _Metabolic panel, CBC, and drug screening dated within the last two months_
  5. _List of medication, dated within the last two weeks_
  6. _Passport or other form of ID updated within the last six moths_



_As a reminder, the trial will begin at 21/6, but all participants are expected to be present and accounted for by 20/6. Requests for housing accommodations can be made if the participant indicates he or she is traveling._

_If you have any questions regarding this documentation, you may contact your primary care provider or our staff._

_Your request for housing has been approved. Please speak with the staff for further information._

_Thank you for your cooperation._

            You sit back and smile around your mug, closing the email and turning off your computer with a few clicks. You planned ahead and gathered most of the required documentation, and getting the rest should be little problem for you. The chair wobbles slightly as you stand with some difficulty and limp over to your bed, your gaze roving across the cross-country trophies and medals caught in the light of your powering-down computer. A smile flits across your lips again as you observe the shimmers in the reflective surfaces darken and vanish. Soon you’ll have your legs back.

            ************************

            You first see her during the fourth day of testing. The scientists have to make sure their participants are healthy and no one has any lurking genetic issues that might complicate things, so they have a small contingent of Oasis’ top geneticists present to run the screenings. Day in, day out, it’s been test after test after test, back to back. Certain bits of you really hurt from where they took biopsies and your whole body aches with fatigue. You’re tired from jet lag and…you suppose wouldn’t really call it stress, but you _have_ needed to navigate a lot of unusual things, from international security to international roads to international culture. The scientists are never the same, either; each, it seems, was hired for his or her own specialty, and they all treat you differently.

This woman in particular seems especially interested in your case, prodding you with questions while she prods and analyzes your body for data. You end up telling her a little about your running career and your college goals before it all came crashing down. In return, she introduces as herself as _Minister_ in turn and tells you a little bit about herself. You find it kind of amazing that one of the Ministers of Oasis themselves would take it upon themselves to help out with this experiment, as you assumed they’d be too busy. She just laughs and tells you it’s beneficial to her to be involved. The scope of this project is large, she says, so the genetic diversity is fascinating to study. You pose a few questions about the future of genetic engineering and wonder aloud what genetic enhancements would be like in the next few decades. She seems to notice your curiosity and expresses interest in getting to know more about what you think, but unfortunately she has other duties to attend to .

 You don’t see her again as the study progresses, but you’re soon too distracted by pain to care. The study focuses on replacement of missing limbs (this segment in particular focusing on muscles and tendons), and the biopsies the scientists took are being used to grow replacements. The tests they’re running now focus on reconnecting the cloned muscle and nerve fibers to preexisting tissue naturally, something that’s always been a challenge in the past. So you reluctantly allow them to split your injured leg to the bone and place the fully-grown clone.

When you awaken from the anesthesia, you’re told that the experiment was a highly probable success.

You stumble your way through recovery and more tests, but with each you feel more and more confident that the trial did work, and the happy noises the scientists are making further support this. You limp, then walk, then run on the treadmill, your legs protesting at the use, but it feels _amazing_ to run again. As the trial winds down, though, you begin to wonder where you could go next. Your scholarship for cross-country is gone, and your money is drying up. You don’t have the cash to finish your science degree, and you begin to spend evenings looking for menial work.

Then you receive a message.

_Congratulations on the successful trial. I know you’ve been having some trouble acclimatizing to your financial situation. I would like to meet and speak with you in person; I have an offer that may interest you._

_-Minister_ _O’Deorain_

You don’t wait to respond.

 

**************************

I was kind of curious as to what Talon soldiers hide behind their helmets. This is an attempt to deconstruct the thoughts of one in particular. 


	2. Silver

You gape as the Minister’s assistant leads you through the university, under vaulted ceilings and through vast libraries and past strange exhibits you can’t make heads or tails of.

            “You’re lucky she’s in her office,” the man leading you says. “Usually she’s got her nose buried in the secure labs, and the university doesn’t let visitors down there.”

            He stops before a door and knocks. “Minister, your appointment is here.”

            “Come,” a curt voice responds from inside, and the assistant gestures you in.

            Her office is small, simple, and very messy. Her dark business suit blends with her wood surroundings, but her pale skin and bright orange hair stands out sharply from the natural color scheme surrounding her. She stands and extends a hand, her smile broad, if slightly lopsided.

            “Minister.” You shake her hand, trying to contain your excitement. Her fingers are long and skinny but very strong and very cold. “It’s an honor to meet you.”

            She barks a laugh. “Please. It’s only Minister in professional circles. You can call me Doctor O'Deorain.” She gestures to the chair opposite hers. “Sit, sit.”

            You shift uncomfortably as you settle in the chair opposite her, wondering how many people she actually meets like this. “All due respect, Doctor, but aren’t you a bit busy for, “ you gesture at your surroundings, “this?”

            “Exceedingly. But I make exceptions for certain people, especially those with curious minds.” She stands and picks up her coffee mug from one of the shelves, then takes the seat across from you. You make out the writing between her fingers: _Stand back; I’m going to try science!_ A smile darts across your face. She turns the script towards her, studies it momentarily, then puts it back on the desk, grinning.

            “I see you’re fond of science jokes as well. So tell me a little bit about your interests.”

            You shrug. “Well, I was in the field of biology, specifically human biology. My best course was microbiology, though.”

            “A fascinating topic, certainly, and definitely worth studying. Perhaps you were looking to take some genetics courses later in your education?” She sips at her coffee, still eyeing you.

            “You kidding? I used to love doing Punnet squares in high school. I thought CRIPSR was the coolest thing since the freaking microwave. It’s done a lot of good in the world. And I love your papers. They’re really insightful as to how understanding us on a molecular level can change and help us as a whole.”

            She raises an eyebrow. “Do you now? There are a lot of people that would consider my work taboo.”

            “But, I mean, there are a lot of interesting research topics in them, and just because a lot of people don’t agree with how you did things doesn’t mean it isn’t something we should explore.”

            “You seem quite open-minded about this. It doesn’t bother you?”

            “Maybe a little bit.” You let out a short, nervous laugh. “I don’t know if I would use humans if I was the one running tests.”

            “It’s efficient, and there’s only so much you can do with rabbits.” She  frowns slightly. “Don’t you agree?”

            “I…guess, as long as the person consents and is given proper knowledge,” you admit.

            “Then consider this: I am attempting a trial with the great potential to help thousands of people, including several individuals in the trial you just completed. I would like you to participate.”

            “Uh…” You don’t know what to say.

            “It’s relatively simple. I’m developing a new kind of biotic system to map the nervous system real-time. A few injections, an hour in my office, some scans… you would be fiscally compensated, of course.”

            “Okay, I guess.” If it’s really as simple as O’Deorain says, well, this should be the easiest money you’ve ever made. And far and away, your greatest contribution to the sciences yet if Doctor O’Deorain is directly involved.

            She stands up and fans out a stack of papers, beginning to paw through the mess for something.

            “This is for you to read.” She hands you a memory stick. “I will make the assumption, if you turn up for the trial, that you have read and understood this information and that you are giving your _informed_ consent to participate.”

            You take the USB stick, not exactly sure if this is how giving consent to an experiment in Oasis is supposed to work. “Thanks? I guess I’ll see you…”

            “Tomorrow, same place, same time. Provided you decide to participate.” She extends her hand again, and you shake on it.

*********************

            It starts with a single test.

            True to her word, it is as simple and quick as she promised, no pain at all, and the payment for sitting through such a short trial is almost a sixth of what the previous month-long trial paid you. Easy money, almost monthly rent payment. You ask a lot of questions during the trial, but Doctor O’Deorain answers a large portion of them openly. As the test (success, she claims) winds down, she offers you another trial to participate in, more money for your troubles. This time you don’t hesitate.

            This new test lasts longer, about a day, and again you are well-compensated for it. The money’s so _easy_ , and Doctor O’Deorain sounds so _pleased_ with you. She suggests a hotel nearby while she waits for the test results, and you take her suggestion. You let your friends and family know what’s going . Most of your buddies are in awe that you’re getting to work with _the_ Minister of Genetics, but your mom and dad have concerns, warning you about the things they’ve seen in the news about her.

            Neither of them can answer you when you ask if they’ve read her research, and you hang up annoyed and dissatisfied with the conversation.

            You lose a contact in the sink that night, and when you show up to the Minister’s office the next day, wearing your spare glasses, she immediately notices.

            _I can do something about that,_ she says with a impish smile.

            She agrees not to charge you, provided she can add a little twist to your genes. _For beneficial reasons_ , she assures you.

            You sign on the dotted line with a shaky pen.

            She takes you down to her personal lab this time, throwing off her suit jacket in favor of a long white doctor’s coat. You notice the scarring on her right arm, but decide not to ask. It’s best not to antagonize her, right? Her touch is gentle but clinical, lingering only as long as necessary, and she runs the examination with such a straight face you think someone chiseled her features out of stone. Despite this dead-serious expression, she handles you carefully, telling you what to expect from your new eyes. You won’t be able to do much for a few days while your eyes heal, but you’ll see better in extreme light and dark and be able to see far more clearly than your average human. You’re honestly just glad to be rid of your myopia, you tell her, your voice trembling a little with nerves. She tells you not to worry so much as she gives you a sedative. She’s very good at what she does.

            At least she take her job seriously.

When you wake up, your vision is so foggy you can _just_ make out colors and your eyes hurt like you’ve been stabbed with ice picks. One of her assistants (she has a few) takes you back to your hotel and looks after you, and when you return to O’Deorain for a follow-up a few days later after the bleeding stops, you notice your eyesight is _definitely_ healing. For the better, too; you can practically count individual leaves on the bushes across the street without your glasses. Just to be certain, she checks your vison and tells you that your scores are far above baseline for distance and light sensitivity. _As I expected_ , she says with more than a little smugness.

You take back whatever concerns you had about her. She’s _incredible._

She mentions she has another trial open, a week this time. You’ll have to travel for it, and it will require some preparation. It’s all being funded through a group that wants to push the limits of human evolution, and you’ll be paid better than ever. If you’re still interested, that is.

Of course you are. You’re just as curious about what she can do with genetics as she is.

You ask her about these people, this group. Where they get their funding, how great their influence is, what they plan to do with all this data.

_Is it possible for me to join?_

She smirks.

_We’ll see._

_****************_

Been a while since I've updated things. My apologies. I usually have my beta check over things before I publish. She's very helpful at catching mistakes, but it takes time. 

Anyway, hope it was worth it. Ch 3 is en route. 

Thanks for reading! :)


	3. Marble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the narrator's endurance and budding loyalty is tested to its limits and in which the narrator discovers an ugly side to the woman she's idolizing.  
> This chapter is mainly what earns this story a hard M rating.  
> *Tags for*: Needles, Drugs, Human experimentation.  
> ********************

You update your family and friends on how things are going in Oasis, then pack. O’Deorain meets you in the lobby of the hotel, accompanied by security guards, and then you’re away, cruising in the backseat of a luxurious aircar with one of the most powerful individuals in the science capital of the world. She expresses curiosity about what you think of all this, but you don’t have a problem with it. Really. You see it as the fastest track to helping science. The doctor smiles at you like an aunt and tells you she’s proud of you for volunteering yourself as a test subject. It takes a lot of courage and conviction to place your body on the line for knowledge. She assures you that you’re really helping her, and that she’s made progress thanks to you.

Besides, she knows what she’s doing….right?

You’ll have to take a jet to reach the place you’re going. She says the location is a secret and that the organization funding her would want to keep it as private as possible. _To keep the data they find safe_. She distracts you with theories and hypotheses on the flight, but the window shades of the plane stay down. It feels a little confining, but you don’t say anything. You want to stay on her good side for as long as possible. She’s fascinating to be around; the way she talks and thinks, how open she is about her discoveries and methods. She’s not afraid to share, she claims, because she’s not ashamed at what she’s done, and the world should be using and benefitting from her knowledge. You nod right along with her.

_Preaching to the choir._

When the plane touches down, it’s dark outside, but she quickly ushers you into another car, and from there, it’s a short drive to some nothing complex in the middle of nowhere.

When you walk indoors, however, you discover that the building spaces are shiny-new, ultra-compact labs broken up into various components. Chemistry labs, physics labs, cold labs ‘hot’ labs. Nothing dangerous goes on here, though, she assures you. That’s done in more secure locations.

She shows you into the genetics wing of the expansive complex, explains you’ll be staying here for the trial. The facility is equipped to handle subjects long-term, yet it looks like it’s never been used.

That makes you a little uncomfortable.

You haven’t talked with any of Doctor O’Deorain’s other “patients”. They just seem to have disappeared, despite the fact you know there has to be more than just you. She’d be a terrible scientist if her test pool consisted of _one_ person. She has to know that. She’s smart.

When you ask, all she says is that it sometimes takes a while to find the ‘right’ candidates for trial. They don’t just turn up overnight, and she doesn’t use just anyone. Not for these more delicate trials, at least.

She leads you into an exam room, takes a little blood from you, and bids you good night. _Lots of tests to run tomorrow._ You should try to get some sleep as well. You’ll have to be up early.

Someone shakes you awake the next morning, and you blink blearily at the clock. 6:00 a.m. _God, she wasn’t kidding_. After breakfast, one of the facility’s doctors runs a basic exam on you, takes a little more blood. They have to, he says when you ask why. It’s essential for Doctor O’Deroain to do her job.

They have you run until your legs feel like they’re going to fall off. Sprints, endurance, intervals, even agility. But they’re not finished after you collapse against a wall, soaked with sweat and exhausted. You earn a brief respite in the form of a long shower, then it’s back into the grinder. They test your strength and mutter unhappily about your lack thereof. _Have you ever fired a weapon before?_ You haven’t, so they make do with a pellet gun, little more than a child’s toy. You surprise yourself by having fairly good accuracy and enjoying the challenge.

_O’Deorain’s done an excellent job on this one_ , they say.

In between the target shooting and the next test, you give the scientist guiding you pause. What _is_ this all about? You’re still not sure exactly what they’re testing for. They’re doing all this to get baselines for O’Deorain, he explains. They have to get measurements to figure out the change between before and after.

More tests, these strictly medical in nature, after lunch. Scans, vision and reflex tests, blood draws, imaging of what you think has to be every structure in your body. The spend nine hours on you, after all, but you’re so tired you almost fall asleep while they’re taking their MRIs and CT scans. After a painful spinal tap (which leaves you with a vicious headache), they finally let you go with orders to rest and stay in the complex. Someone will be in to check on you, make sure you’re not suffering any adverse effects from the tap. _It’s not exactly uncommon._

Someone leads you back to your room, and you collapse onto the bed, facedown, groaning because of the headache. You refuse pain medication ( _it’ll probably just make me throw up)_ and try to sleep.

Some bastard wakes you by rudely turning on the lights.

You swear sleepily at the person and flail in slow motion against your blankets. The person apologizes, says something about looking for a place to crash, and hastily backs out. _He’s not wearing white,_ you realize, and you call him back He’s the first person you’ve seen who’s not a doctor or scientist. You tell him to keep his voice down, then proceed to have a whispered conversation with him. _What’s he doing here? Has he seen anyone else? How did he hear about this?_

_Recruiters,_ he tells you. He washed out of the military thanks to “not making the cut”, but he had great aim. He was approached not much later by a recruiter for this project, who said they were testing a method to fix such instabilities, and when he saw how much was being offered, he took it. There are others here too, according to him. They arrived not too long ago, all here for the trials that could change them. He’s a bit nervous about meeting O’Deorain, but he’s committed. He recounts what they told him about bettering humanity and how he’s excited to be a part of something big.

You reciprocate by telling him about your own experiences with O’Deorain, what she’s done for you, and how she pulled you into this. Your presence confuses him. _I thought they only allowed soldiers_. At least, that’s what he was told. This gives you pause, makes you think. _Why would they want me, then?_

The young man has no answer for you.

Your conversation is interrupted by the door sliding open. Dr. O’Deorain herself steps through the door, takes one look at you, and freezes, her gaze flickering between you and your visitor. You tense, wondering if you’re about to get yelled at. A slow smile spreads across her face. She comments on the fact the two of you are getting to know one another and encourages it. She came to check on you, but since she’s got you both here together, she figured she might as well give you the opportunity to determine the order she will test in.

_Who wants to go first?_

You glance at the young man, find him looking worried, and slowly raise your hand.

********************************************

“Once again you impress me with what you’re willing to do for science.” O’Deorain throws you another of her winning smiles. You tug nervously at the hospital gown they made you change into and try to discreetly wipe the sweat off your palms.

You’re not exactly sure what she’s got planned. She mentioned something earlier about neurological enhancements, reaction times, toning down pain sensitivity, boosting your speed and slashing your recovery time. These all sound like good things, things that might be used for…athletes? Soldiers, maybe?

Again you wonder exactly who she’s working for.

“Erm…Doctor?”

“Yes?”

“Could you explain the applications of this again?”

“Theoretical, as of now. But it could turn into something that would really help humanity in the long run, such as in the case of a second Omnic Uprising.”

“But the SEP research-“ You mention, puzzled.

She cut across you. “-Produces unstable and unsustainable results. The point of this research is not to condemn those willing to undergo such pain to a slow death should it be needed for augmenting soldiers.”

You swallow the inevitable question. Maybe it’s best not to know how painful this will be.

“In here.” She waves you into a room. It smells of antiseptic, all white, bright lights. Easy to spot and clean up blood, you suppose. There are other people already present, checking and double-checking data files. Your gaze lingers on the heavily padded table in the center. It’s equipped with heavy-duty straps. A lump forms in your throat.

“Have a seat.”

You shuffle forward and stop. You can’t bring yourself to sit. She’s never had to use restraints before, and you _don’t_ like this development.

“Something the matter?”

“I…uh…you don’t have to strap me down, do you?”

“I’m afraid so.” Her tone is soft, but her smile is a bit lopsided, not quite genuine. “This treatment has some rather drastic effects in previously observed subjects, even when said subjects have been sedated. I don’t want you hurting yourself.”

“Right,” you murmur, perching on the edge of the table.

She places a hand on your shoulder, pushes you gently down on your back. “You should relax. You’re doing this for science, after all. That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” you say hesitantly, implying a strong _but_ to that affirmation. The problem is, she’s not listening anymore, her face stretched in an imperious grin as she makes a final check of some results.

“I like a consistent individual. So much easier to work with.”

You stare at the ceiling and try to ignore your heart attempting to break out of your rib cage. The inevitable question forms on your lips.

“Doctor?”

“Yes?”

“How much will this hurt?”

She buckles the strap at your waist, pulls tight. “I can’t say, precisely. I’ve documented different reactions based on body weight, size, treatment iteration, and pain tolerance. Some have only needed a few doses of painkiller. Some almost died due to the shock. Which is another good reason for the restraints.” She slows a moment, her face creased in thought as she rearranges your arms on the wide rests. “It’s likely that treating you will cause you to seize, but the pain shouldn’t be _terrible,_ per se. I will try to avoid administering medication to get as accurate results as possible, but if the pain is too much to handle, let me know and I’ll anesthetize you.”

_Great_. So basically expect pain, and lots of it. She’s trying to gloss over it, to put your mind at ease. But you’re not fooled. You know what she’s trying to convey, even if she won’t come out and say it. _Is it too late to back out,_ you wonder, then remember what she’s already done. She’s good at what she does, and if this works, it will be an amazing contribution to science.

Still, you wince and shift and avoid her eyes as her fingers glide across your skin, checking you over one last time.

“Any pain?” She asks, noticing your reaction.

“No.”

“Keep still, then.” She fastens the wrist restraints. They’re thickly padded so you won’t hurt yourself if you seize, but they still squeeze your bones together. She must be expecting a nasty reaction if she had the table set up like this. You can barely squirm. A nervous sigh squeezes from your lungs. You start counting your breaths, trying to remain composed.

“A bit anxious, are we?”

You nod, not trusting your voice.

“You’re doing fine.” Her gaze drops to her notes again, and she gives the technicians a curt order. They stand up and approach. Your gaze turns to the ceiling as they start placing electrodes and IVs full of strange liquid. You wish this would just be over. You’ve been through surgery before, and it’s never been this nerve-wracking. Moira frowns at something, picks up a syringe, and approaches. You stare at the needle nervously.

“Anxiolytic. To keep you calm,” she explains shortly, as if you had much of a choice of what she shot into you now. Five seconds and…done. Artificial calm settles over you like a stifling blanket, and you don’t even mind when they strap a breathing mask to your face. _Oxygen_ , they tell you. You believe them; it does seem to make breathing easier.

“Time is 12:19 and twenty-one seconds. Open lines two and three, and prep Catalytic #17 IV push, 100 mg.”

A noise of protest slips from your lips, lost in the plastic mask covering your nose and mouth. The technicians ignore you and adjust the IVs  tapped into your veins. The strange-colored solution enters your body, but so far you feel nothing. Moira approaches with a syringe of some radioactive-blue liquid. You try to catch her gaze, but she’s not looking at you anymore. _She’s just focused on her job_ , you tell yourself as the injection burns along your veins. The heat gathers in your chest and lingers there, pressing down on your ribs, your lungs, your heart. The beat of your heart counts out five painful minutes of the scientist observing and recording.

“Subject is stable. Minimal reaction.”

“Introduce Catalytic #24, 20 mg.”

One of the techs pushes another syringe of liquid, clear this time, into one of the IVs. You’re not sure what effect all these injections are supposed to have, but it doesn’t feel like much at all. You wonder if something has gone wrong and stare at Moira, wanting an explanation. But she’s too focused on her data to notice.

Then you feel it; insects crawling along your arm where the chemical was injected. You look, but see nothing other than skin, slightly pocked with goosebumps. But the _feeling_ is there, like ants creeping along your raw, twitching nerves. You flex your hands, trying to distract yourself from the itch.

“Heart rate rising.”

Was it? You hadn’t even noticed. The heat blossoming and curling on your chest had begun to spread, pooling behind your eyes. Your extremities, by comparison, felt frigid, and you wished for a blanket. Cold sweat began to gather in the creases of your skin. The lights become too bright to look directly at.

“Introduce 38. 15 mg.”

Another syringe of lurid red substance, this time a very small amount. You wonder how this could possibly have any effect, holding that thought for a second before your nerves light up like sparklers with nearly unbearable pins-and-needles . You twist and grunt, trying to alleviate the white-hot prickling. Moira approaches, cups your chin,  and peers into your eyes, looking deeper than your face, as though she could find something there. She doesn’t seem to realize that you’re looking back.

 “Pupils are fully dilated. Acute response is beginning.” She turns her gaze to you, this time looking _at_ you instead of _through_ you. “Tell me how it feels.”

You pull in a hitching breath and realize then why they started you on oxygen. It hurts to breathe; each gasp burns in your lungs, and you can’t seem to pull in enough air.

“Like needles. Hot ones,” you tell her.

She nods. “That’s normal.” She turns to the technicians. “Push 45. 30 mg.”

“It burns,” you say, your voice pitching up, one bound hand stretching against the straps, trying to reach her. One of the technicians brings over a fourth syringe, and you shy away from it. With each injection, the pain has gotten worse, and you don’t think this one will be different.

 “Doctor, please…”

 “It will end eventually.” She steps away from you, eyeing the technician, who has paused. “She’s fine. Continue.”

A whimper escapes you. Then molten lead spreads through your veins, the fist of pain driving your back into the padded table. You gasp, staring at O’Deorain, silently begging for help.

The last thing you see before the pain smothers all thought is her cold, flat eyes, watching. Analyzing.

 

******************

Whoo, that was intense. 

But fun. 

Next chapter we see the physical and mental effects of what Moira has done. 

**A/N:** Also DAMN, this was a long time in coming. I got stuck, but the fic Project Bloodhound by DeskGirl got me unstuck. (I would highly recommend giving it a read if you like this or Dance For Me.)  I have also been working diligently on FeudalWatch and Dance For Me, if you are following those. I have everything beta-read so that my work doesn't raise eyebrows, and sometimes it takes a while for my beta to get back to me. But it's worth it, because her beta-reading sometimes does catch things I miss, and you guys deserve the best. 

Cheers!


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